The churches are good at getting it together in Teesdale, even though it's partly to celebrate their differences.

THERE are still ten minutes remaining before Newcastle United's latest defeat and fractious aftermath - a summary for those of a non-sporting disposition - when it is necessary to leave football and fireside and head for Sunday evening service in Barnard Castle.

It is the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, now extended to eight days - perhaps on the grounds that some things, take a little longer - and in Barney they really are getting it together.

Sometimes, however, it seems that Christianity is as united as Newcastle is United - that is to say that there are several different camps, those who will never be team players and that while everything should be black and white, it very rarely is.

(This should not necessarily, of course, be seen as a reference to Mr Craig Bellamy or even to the good Shepherd - and those who forego football can ignore that allusion altogether.)

The service is to be in the Methodist church, and that's the first problem. A hastily handwritten note on the door advises that the heating has given up the ghost and that the annual occasion has been transferred - free transferred - down the road to the 12th century St Mary's parish church.

Keith Pearce, the Methodist minister, is a bit gloomy. "There's no pressure at all and cold water dripping from one of the pipes. It doesn't look good," he says.

Alec Harding, St Mary's vicar, says that St Mary's mightn't be much warmer than the Methodists', though the heating's on full fettle. A visiting Methodist announces that she's nithered; the United Reformed Church, 200 yards away, is reckoned cosiest of all.

Barnard Castle's fourth church is Roman Catholic, though just one among the 80 or so present is thought to represent that congregation. Fr Wilfred Ekin, the parish priest, has reintroduced traditional Latin mass and folk flock from all over.

"I don't think," someone says, "that Fr Ekin is desperately ecumenical."

In addition - and not even St James Park may have this many redoubts - there's a monthly Quaker meeting and the Sunday evening Christian Fellowship, formed 30 years ago by Lewis Staley, a friendly farmer and dry stone waller. At first they used the farmhouse a couple of miles along the road; now they meet at the URC.

Churches Together in Barnard Castle are pacesetters for all that, involved in everything from services in care homes to concern for the local homeless, from Christmas carolling to thoughts for the day - so far they've had 24, not all at the same time - on the fledgling Radio Teesdale. Anglicans and Methodists also jointly fund a children's worker in the dale.

They celebrate difference, nonetheless. "The Church isn't a supermarket, you don't want to have exactly the same thing in every place," says Mr Harding. "We've not become like Morrison's yet."

Keith Pearce agrees. "I think it's a good thing that there are different styles and patterns of worship. The fact that things can be a little different doesn't mean that we don't have common aims."

Elizabeth Conran, URC member and retired director of the Bowes Museum, enthuses both about St Mary's font of Teesdale marble - reckoned unique, dated to 1485 - and about greater unity.

"We're moving amazingly," she says. "The simple fact that we're working together helps us to understand that we have so much in common. There are differences in detail and some of them are fairly fundamental but the bottom line is that we are all going the same way."

The order of service has been put together by Churches Together in Britain and Ireland - all singing from the same song sheet - beginning with the ceremonial placing of bricks, firm foundations, from Lewis's ready store.

"Even dry stone walls need foundations," he confirms.

The Rev Graham Carter, chairman of the Darlington Methodist circuit - Methodists don't have bishops and, if they had, would want to embrace women bishops as well - uses the analogy to talk about the extension being built onto his study at home.

"The building work's a little behind time. It seems to be one of the given things in life that building work is always behind time," he says and, as if finally having warmed through, has removed his coat and scarf before beginning his address.

What they are acknowledging, he says, is their common foundation in Jesus. "We will discover increasingly that we are all part of the same pattern."

His sermon, as is customary in Methodism, lasts about 20 minutes. The Church of England prefers generally to be much briefer, the last Bishop of Durham given to the observation that if a preacher hadn't struck gold in ten minutes, he should stop digging.

In time they'll probably settle for a quarter of an hour across the board.

Afterwards, Mr Carter doubts that there'll be complete unity for a long time. "There are too many fiddling things to iron out, but in practice there's no problem. The important thing is that we have the same attitude to the Church's life and mission."

Keith Pearce has told Sunday's gathering that it's a tragedy they aren't all one communion but promises that one day they will be united. They probably say that at Newcastle, an' all.